


Hard Sun

by AbsurdBirdie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Brent's a bit of a jerk, F/M, Helen's a badass, Ladylike are the sheriff and deputies, Ryan's an outlaw, Sara's a badass, Shane's a doctor, The Try Guys are outlaws, Vulture Mine, old west au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:21:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsurdBirdie/pseuds/AbsurdBirdie
Summary: There's a big, a big hard sun. Beaten on the big people. In the big hard world.





	1. Chapter 1

A lone figure staggers across the border of Vulture Mine, the first non gold crazed visitor that God forsaken town has seen in years. His steps are clumsy, feet clawing through the dirt on wobbly legs, like a foal taking its first steps. His foot prints are merely scrapes through the dirt as he pulls himself along, wheezing and choking as he passes the first building.

A General Store.

The windows are black. The door is locked. Still, he approaches the window, limbs shaking as he presses a hand onto the window, all five fingers trembling. He looks closer in, the tip of his cowboy hat tipping up against the dusty pane.

No one. 

He presses his forehead into the cool glass, heaving a sigh as it soothes his dirt and sweat covered face. He grits his teeth once more. Every breath hurts. Using the last few ounces of strength, he pushes himself away from the wall and continues on down the dirt road. Blood is left on the dusty window pane.

Laughter and music softly echoes before him as he passes the store, and he picks up the pace, groaning as every limb aches in response. His hands grip the walls of different shops as he passes them, pushing himself onward. His mouth hangs open now, taking in gulps of cool desert air and wheezing them out.

“H-hey.” He chokes out as he approaches the saloon. Each window casts a homely glow, the clinking of glasses and laughter and cheery piano music slipping out through its doors and into his ears. He presses one hand on the door and pushes it with a hollow wince. The sudden light is almost blinding to him, the music deafening. He squints his eyes and looks around the large room.

Men mostly inhabit the place, save for a few barmaids dressed up in frills and feathers. Just enough to call it a dress, little enough to show the goods. He staggers over to the first table, where a man has his back to him in order to watch a group of gals perform. Their voices are shrill yet sweet as one leans over the piano, her cleavage practically popping out from her dress and into the pianist’s face. But he don’t seem to mind one bit.

“Hey partner.” The man says, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder, and putting his weight onto it with a pained sigh. He turns around, ready to tell him off, but widen a bit when he takes in his complexion. His glassy eyes, black hair unkept and poking out from his hat. His left arm tightly gripping his shoulder.

“You alright?” He asks shakily. The man doesn’t reply, only shakes him.

“Y’know where the doctor is?”

“Uh, just at the end of the corner across the street.” He quickly replies. He gingerly places a hand on the man’s wrist. “You alright?” He repeats. In response, the man shakes his hand away, almost in disgust. He watches him leave, practically doubled over as the doors swing shut. He almost goes after him, but thinks better of it. Instead, he heads over to a table up front, where the sheriff is sitting.

Outside, the man passes the saloon and heads off the corner and once again onto the dirt street. The hearty noise of the saloon leaves him, his hearing now muffled, as though he’s been submerged in water. All he can hear is the hammering of his own heart and his breath, now hollow and pained. Every ounce of air is a stab at his lungs, every step makes his wince. Blood is seeping through the fingers clamped over his shoulder, red and warm as they run down his arm. The only source of heat he has now.

Something catches the front of his foot. He trips, knees and hands sinking into the dirt. He gasps as his hand leaves his shoulder, tears now pricking at his eyes as he pushes himself off the ground, shoulder straining.

I’m not dying. He thinks as he straightens himself. Not like this.

Hand now clasped back onto his shoulder, he glances up at the sky, velvety and speckled with stars. Beautiful in his clouding vision.

“Why you doin’ this to me, huh?” He asks aloud. “Why not let ‘em kill me when they had the chance?”

The sky doesn’t answer back, of course, only lets a few stars twinkle against the wide expanse of black. He waves his hand dismissively at it.

“Aw hell.” He grumbles. “They’ll be around to finish the job anyway. Never shoulda let Kornfeld take the shot."

With an annoyed huff, he resumes his trek, knees wobbling against the cool night air. His vision is going in and out now, the doctor’s office nothing but a blue painted blur.

The wooden stairs are pins and needles in his aching legs, his movements stiff as he raises his fist and pounds on the wooden door.

“C’mon.” He groans, another shot of pain ripping through the flesh of his shoulder, shakily leaning his weight on one foot then the other. He pounds on the door once more.

“Hold yer horses!” A muffled voice comes from inside the building. The man perks up as the door opens, revealing a tall and lanky man about a foot taller than himself. His brown eyes are large and kind as he looks down upon the injured man with shock.

“Hello sir.” He says, using the last ounce of his strength to tip his hat. “I do believe I need doctor.”

The world sways and he finds himself in the tall man’s arms. The last thing he hears before darkness swallows him whole is the man’s desperate call for Sara.


	2. Chapter 2

“Sara!” Shane cried as he lugged the man the man inside. He was completely limp now, and blood trickled onto Shane’s hand from the bullet hole in his jacket. “Sara!”

“What is it Shane?” came his wife’s reply as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Someone hurt—” She rightly gasped as she took in the scene, her husband practically cradling an unconscious man in his arms, blood dribbling from his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Good God.” Shane heard her whisper.

“Grab his feet.” Shane said, motioning to the body. Sara adjusted her curls and her glasses before walking around him to the man’s feet, shutting the door with a dull thud as she did so.

“On three.” Shane said, and Sara nodded in reply. “One two three—” They both groaned as they lifted the man up and carried him into the backroom, his head lolling back and both his hands going limp. Both Sara and her husband winced as his knuckles collided with the hard wood floor.

Laying him down on the operating table, Shane quickly rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. Sara rummaged through the cabinets, placing down rubbing alcohol, liquor, and bandages. Putting them all on the table, she then began helping Shane pull off the man’s coat. Nothing came from him except a few drowsy groans, and the way his face screwed up real tight when they pulled it over his hurt shoulder. His shirt was soon removed along with it, and Shane began cleansing the wound with rubbing alcohol. The bullet had gone straight through.

The unconscious man had woke then with a rough wince. His world was blurry at first, hearing nothing but muffled voices talking back and forth in a hurried manner.

“Shane, he’s up.” A light feminine voice said. The man looked to where it came from, and with his vision now clear, could see a petite and extremely pretty young woman standing beside the tall man. She turned back to the desk to the far corner of the room, and he watched her brunette curls bounce as she grabbed a liquor bottle. She uncapped it and held it out to him. He glanced at her cautiously, and she responded only with a calming tone.

“Drink. It’ll help keep the sting away.”

He did as he was told, and took a few gulps of it. After she’d capped it and put it back, he could feel its effects, slightly numbing the burn of the rubbing alcohol. The world was getting fuzzy again as it intensified, and once again he slipped into heavy sleep as Sara went back to fetch the bottle.

~~~

“How is he?” Sara asked just as the clock struck five. Dawn had barely started creeping through into Vulture Mine, the sun casting its golden rays across the wide expanse of sky, turning it a rich violet as dark was casted away like the devil from Heaven. Shane sighed as he glanced down at the man. Some color had come back into his cheeks, and with his shoulder sewn and his arm in a sling he’d soon recover.

“Fine.” Shane replied, turning to his wife with a tired smile. He had sent her back to bed around midnight before he began sewing up the wound. She wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway, it was unfair for him to keep her awake. She smiled back, her features illuminated with the sunlight streaking through the window. Her brown curls were wild and dark circles had ever so slightly began to form under her eyes, but still they were alight like the dawn above them.

Pretty little thing Shane thought.

His wife sighed, approaching him before enveloping him in a hug and resting her head on his chest. He in turn wrapped his arms around her small waist and buried his face in her curls. It was a nice feeling, holding her like that and her holding him, even if he towered over her at six foot four and and she was only standing at five foot four.

“How are you?” came her voice, muffled by his shirt. She looked up, and saw the dark circles, much darker than hers beneath his eyes and felt a pang of sympathy.

“Fine,” was his reply, rough with lack of sleep. He looked down at her, and she smiled at him, eyes twinkling in the coming day. She stood on her tiptoes to give him a small kiss on the lips and he bent down slightly to receive it.

“I’ll make us some breakfast.” She said as she untangled her husband’s long arms from her waist. “Perhaps some for our patient too.”

“Sounds nice.” Shane said with a yawn. “I’m gonna go check up on him.” Sara nodded, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading upstairs into the kitchen.

Shane headed back into the other room, where the man soundly slept. The liquor bottle that had been a little more than half full at the time of his arrival was now empty, gulped down in the hopes of calming his nerves and pain as Shane had tended to his wound. Shane placed it on the countertop and rested his hands beside it, leaning his weight off his feet and onto the counter. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with his equally exhausted hand.  

Someone groaned.

The man began to stir then, his eyelids opening ever so slightly to the room around him, sunlight streaking in from the window of the front room. The pain in his shoulder was gone, all that remained was soreness and stiffness if he tried moving it. He turned his head side to side, glancing around the room. Pale blue walls, cabinets lining the room and a few countertops. Bandages and other medical instruments lay on a small table beside him. He began to sit up when the tall man appeared beside him, gingerly placing his large hand on the man’s good shoulder. 

“Easy now.” He said. His voice was deep and kind, but also a bit rough sounding. The man could see that he hadn’t slept a wink in the last night or so. All thanks to him.

“Where am I?” He croaked, looking up at the tall man with the smallest amount of fear in his eyes.

“You’re in Vulture Mine, friend.”

“Vulture what?”

“Well, my office to be more specific.” He said with a smile.

“Office?”

“I’m Doctor Madej, but you can call me Shane if you want.”

The man glanced behind Shane’s lanky form to the far corner of the room, where a basket was filled with bloody rags and bandages. He gulped.

“Did you. . .help me?”

Shane laughed. “When you fell into my arms last night I was sure you was a goner, but you’re one lucky son of a bitch! The bullet went through the pectoralis minor muscle, missing any bones or nerves or arteries. Right in and out, didn’t even need to dig around for a bullet!”

The man nodded, gingerly touching the sling his right arm was now in.

“Oh sorry.” Shane said. “Never caught your name.”

“Uh. . .Ryan.” The man said. “Ryan Bergara.”

“Well nice to finally be acquainted Ryan.” He held his hand out. Ryan gingerly shook it with his good hand.

“You too Shane.”

The rest of the morning was spent with Ryan laid up in bed, Shane addressing to his wounds and Sara popping in and out, asking if either of them needed anything. That or helping Shane. Ryan had grown fond of her, despite only knowing her a few hours. She was an eccentric young woman with a kind heart that was shown in the way her eyes twinkled then she smiled at him, or in the way she gingerly touched his arm when she asked if him how he was feeling. 

From watching them both throughout the day, Ryan could see the deep love they held for each other. How Shane smiled when she entered the room or watched her go when she left, or how Sara in turn smiled and blushed when Shane placed a hand on her waist or shoulder, or bent down to give her a small kiss.

“How long y’all been hitched?” Ryan asked once evening had come. The robin egg blue of the sky had begun to fade away, replaced with the fiery orange that burst through the glass windows and made the walls look aflame. Out the window he could see the surrounding mountains, which were now a deep purple in contrast to the coming dusk.

“Oh, a little over a year.” Shane replied with a smile, meekly twisting the wedding band around his finger.

“Got any youngin’s?”

Shane smiled. “No, no. Not yet at least.”

Ryan solemnly nodded, and let the lull of sleep overtake him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, more to come soon!


	3. Chapter 3

The door to Shane’s office swung open with a large bang, startling Sara, who’d been standing in front of the counter. She backed up against it a man entered the room, his clothes tarnished and face crusted with blood. 

He approached her and leaned in so close their noses could have touched. She would have screamed for Shane or at least gave the man a hearty push, but was instead frozen with fear. 

“Where’s Bergara?” His breath was thick with the coppery stench of blood, most likely from the split lip. 

“I-I. . .” She stuttered, trying in vain to sneak away from him. He in turn roughly grasped her by the fore arm with an iron grip, causing her to yelp. 

“I’ll ask you again, woman.” He hissed. “Where. Is. Bergara?” 

Shane entered the room then, and his eyes darkened upon seeing his wife being roughly grasped by an unknown man. 

“Get your hands off my wife!” He cried, striding forward and pushing the man away. He crashed into the wall, and Shane grasped Sara by the waist, pulling her closer to him. He lightly touched her forearm, which showed the red fingerprints of where the man had so roughly grabbed at her. 

“So help me God I’ll call the sheriff if you don’t get the hell out of my home.” Shane snapped as the man stood up, staring him down. His blue eyes bore into Shane’s, aflame with defiance. He ran a bruised hand over his stubble before reaching into his coat and pulling out a revolver. Sara gasped and Shane pushed her behind him. 

“I don’t think so, partner.” The man spat. 

“Hey, hey look.” Shane stammered. “We don’t want any trouble—” 

“Leave ‘em alone Brent.” They all three turned to see Ryan Bergara in the doorway of the operating room, a revolver of his own in his hand. He must have found where Shane had stashed his jacket until he got better. Ryan glared at Brent, brown eyes icy. 

“They ain’t done nothin’ to you.” 

Brent laughed, long and wheezy, as though his throat was full of sand. 

"Well look who we’ve got here.” He pointed the gun at Sara for a moment. “Guess the little tart was lying.” 

“The hell did you just call her?” Shane asked, but was quieted when Sara grasped at his shoulder, furiously shaking her head. 

“Ryan Bergara.” Brent said, ignoring Shane. “You got a lot of explainin’ to do.” 

“Brent, it was every man for himself out there. I’m sorry if—” 

“You’re sorry!?” Brent hissed. “You left me out there in the sweltering heat when things got rough. Let them come upon me like vultures till I was seeing double and spittin’ blood.” 

“How the hell’d you survive?” 

“Played dead for hours after they shot at me blind. Lying there in the sweltering heat while the buzzards whizzed around me. Now it’s your turn. Only you won’t be playing.” 

“Brent, we can handle this like men or you can handle this like a coward. Your choice.” Ryan replied, placing his gun back into his holster and holding up his hands. Brent contemplated this for a moment, and Ryan could see. Take down his former best friend like a coward, shooting him without defense, or let him fight? Destroy him at his own game? 

His pride won this battle. 

He gestured roughly to the door. 

“Outside.” He growled, before turning to the Madejs. “Have fun folks. We gon’ have a shoot out.” 

~~~

The afternoon glared down upon both parties as they met in the center of the street. Most of the people in town had hid in the saloon or their homes, knowing this would be another deadly shoot out. 

Ryan pulled his his revolver, the silver glinting in the sun as he held it tight in his left hand. His other arm was still in a sling but he was not afraid. He could see Brent wobbling to and fro as he took his place, his woozy state from dehydration, blood loss, and far too much sun was clearly evident. 

Ryan would surely kill him. 

So he approached Brent, putting his gun back in its holster and placing his good hand on his shoulder. Brent shook it off in disgust. 

“The hell you want, Bergara?”

“Brent, I know I’ve done a bad thing. I know you’re mad and you have every right to be, but we don’t have to do this. You’re my best friend, and I don’t wanna hurt you.” Brent looked Ryan up and down. 

“You already have, friend,” he spat upon Ryan right shoe, before backing up a few steps, gun in hand. Ryan sighed. 

“I ain’t shootin’ you Brent Bennet!” 

He turned around and headed back to the doctor’s office. 

A shot rang out. Another. 

Ryan whirled around. 

He grabbed the gun from its holster. 

He fired. 

The smoke cleared, and he could see Brent standing tall like a deer in headlights, his gun aimed at Ryan. 

One beat. Two. 

Brent crumpled into the dust, a brown cloud spouting up from the impact of his body. The door of the doctor’s office clanged open, and Shane rushed out, a doctor’s bag grasped in his right hand. Ryan followed him, and they both approached Brent, face down in the dirt. Shane gingerly rolled him over, showing a deep chest wound of blood and pulp, blood pouring from his wound and his mouth. Still, the wretched man’s eyes twitched beneath his lids, and he gasped out. 

“They’re comin’ for you Bergara.” He wheezed out. “And they’ll send you back to Hell!” 

“Where are they Bennet?” Ryan snapped. He placed his boot on Brent’s wound and put the smallest amount of pressure on it. Brent cried out, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “I asked you a question!” 

Brent looked up into Ryan’s hardened eyes, watching as tears like his own began to form within them. In that small slip of time he had left, Brent thought of Ryan. They had been together through thick and thin, tended to each other’s wounds, and loved each other as deeply as best friends could. Ryan was his best friend, even if God was the only one to forgive him for what he did. Still, Ryan hadn’t wanted to kill Brent, and Brent didn’t want Ryan to die. 

“G-Gila. . .West Fork. . .” Brent gives one last shudder before going still beneath Ryan’s shadow. 

Ryan watched as Shane puts two fingers against Brent’s neck, and shook his head. Ryan felt as though the air had been knocked out of him, and he gasped, eyes wide. He fell to his knees beside Shane and leaned his weight against the doctor, fearing he’d faint if he didn’t have any support. Shane in turn put his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. 

They stayed like that for what felt like eternity before Sara came out from the house, and putting an arm around Ryan, she and her husband escorted him back into the house. The sheriff would tend to the body. 

Then to Ryan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters to come! What do you think Brent was trying to tell Ryan?


	4. Chapter 4

Shane paced back and forth around the front room of his office, waiting for the town sheriff Devin Lytle to exit the operating room, where she was currently questioning Ryan. Her deputy Freddie Ransome was waiting with the Madejs, while their counterparts Chantel Houston, Jen Ruggirello, and Kristin Chirico tended to the rest of the town, calming the other citizens and making arrangements for the body. Sara and Freddie watched as Shane worked a hole into the hard wood floor.

“Mr. Madej I do believe that is enough pacing.” Freddie said. Shane stopped for a moment and sighed.

“Deputy I—” He started.

“Shane, darlin’,” Sara interrupted, and upon seeing his wife’s pleading eyes, Shane sat down next to her and took her hand in his own.

The door to the office opened and Sheriff Lytle strode out. She tucked one strand of short blonde hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Considering it was in self defense, I don’t believe any charges can be filed.” She said. “But don’t think I won’t be keeping a close eye on Mr. Bergara.”

“Of course, Sheriff.” Sara replied.

Without a second glance, the sheriff and deputy strode out of the building.

The door opened once more and Ryan entered the room.

~~~ (Two days later:)

The hot wind blew beneath the afternoon sun, sending dirt and filth into the faces of three figures. One a lanky male, another a petite young woman, and the third a stout young man.

They formed a small semi circle around a wooden cross stuck in the ground. A grave, on the very edge of Vulture Mine:

Brent Bennet  
1839-1868  
“I have fought the good fight,  
I have finished the race,  
I have kept the faith.”  
-Timothy 4:7

After the priest had recited some words from the bible and headed back to town, all stayed in silence as they read the carvings over and over and over again.

“Ryan, you can’t just keep this sort of thing from us forever.” Sara said, breaking the silence. Both men turned to face her.

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

“What do you think I mean?” Sara snapped. “You show up to Vulture Mine half dead, a man is shot in the street, a man who knows you, and for two whole days you don’ say nothin’!”

“Sara—” Shane said, but she went on.

“We are your friends, and if it wasn’t for my husband you’d be in Brent’s place right now. You owe us the truth.”

Ryan sighed and slightly shook his head. He glanced down at the grave, where his best friend now lay, then to the sky, where the sun and wind beat down upon them all like there was no tomorrow.

“What I told the sheriff, that ain’t true. We weren’t attacked by the Apache, and Brent didn’t mistakenly shoot me.”

This was the first time the Madejs had heard of his fake tale, and now both shared a cautious look. If that was a lie, how crazy could the truth be?

“Brent and I met once the war finished in ’65.” Ryan continued. “Neither of us had any family, so we traveled town to town doing small jobs to get by. Over time we found the illegal ones paid better. So we took one with. . .The Try Guys.”

Both Sara and Shane’s eyes widened. Even they in little old Vulture Mine knew of the notorious gang. The four members Eugene Lee Yang, Keith Habersburger, Ned Fulmer, and Zack Kornfled were the worst the West had to offer. Robbing, pillaging, killing, you name it. They'd done it all.

“What did you do?” Shane asked.

“Brent and I were supposed to be the lookouts a saloon back in Phoenix. They were planning on. . .killing two opposing outlaws that call themselves the Worth It gang. Two men by the names of Steve Lim and Andrew Ilnyckjy. But during it, we both had too much to drink while waiting. We got into an argument that ruined the Try Guys’s chances. Brent took a shot and instead grazed Fulmer in the leg. Kornfled thought it was me and caught me in the shoulder. It wasn’t bad but still they mere mad. Brent and I both ran, but I left him to be beaten within an inch of his life by Fulmer while the rest of them chased after the Worth It gang. And now they’re after me, for ruining their plans and thinking I tried killing one of them.”

“Jesus Christ.” Shane gasped. Ryan nodded solemnly.

“And just so you both know I’ll be out of this place before the day is out.”

With that, he strode past them and toward the setting sun.

“Ryan!” Sara called. She grasped him by the shoulder and spun him around. “Just what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?”

“Sara, I know some of the kinds of people that reside here, and news travels fast among them. The Try Guys will know I’m here soon, and they’ll be barreling in in just a few days from now. So I’m meeting them first. I just have to figure out where they are.”

“They’ll kill you!” Shane cried. “Four against one, one who’s in a sling at that, is not a fair fight.”

“So?” Ryan asked. “If I’m dead then what’s the use of attacking Vulture Mine?”

“If this doesn’t end they’ll just keep terrorizing every town this side of Gila River!” Sara snapped.

“Wait, Gila River?” Ryan asked, eyes widening.

“Yes.”

“That’s what Brent said!” He cried. “Where the Try Guys are. Gila and West Fork!" He was practically jumping up and down like a giddy school boy, eyes alight. “I remember now! Before the job they said to head to the West Fork of the Gila River Canyon! That’s where they’re hiding out! I know where to go now!”

“And you think you’re getting there on foot?” Sara asked. “That’s a two day trip!”

“I’ll steal a horse or something.”

“I won’t hear it!” Shane snapped. “If I can’t stop you, then I’m going with you!”

“Me too!” Sara said.

Ryan vigorously shook his head. “I can’t let you do this.” He said. “You’ll die if you do.”

“And you’ll die if you do it alone!” Shane replied. “This’ll at least give us a fighting chance.”

“Think of it this way Ryan,” Sara said, “Either we make you stay here by any means necessary, or we go and murder those sons of bitches together.”

Ryan contemplated this for a moment, before turning to her and flashing a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Ladylike's made an appearance!


	5. Chapter 5

And come dawn that next day our heroes were off, turning tail on that speck of a town and riding off towards West Fork, the hard sun before them and a cloud of dust behind. 

The town itself had only a few horses, and since most of them were used in the mine work, the three had to set off on two elderly and shaky horses who had not seen a journey like this in years. 

Sara and Shane rode on a horse by the name of Smokey, an old gray mare, while Ryan rode a dusty red stallion named Chief. Both horses were easily tired, but still they pushed on beneath the sun’s everlasting glare, heaving out puff after puff of breath. 

Once they began to near their first glimpse of the Gila, they stopped for a small drink of water, sitting beneath the shade the horses could offer them. 

“Y’know, you both never did tell how y’all got to be in Vulture Mine.” Ryan said. Sara nodded with pursed lips, recalling a far off memory. 

“I was dragged here from Connecticut by my gold crazed Pa.” She said. “He never did find any, and died after a mining accident. So I was left fatherless with little to no money, terrified I was gonna be one of those saloon girls. Then Shane came along.” She reached over and grasped her husband’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes shined as he smiled at her. “He let me stay with him, then one thing led to another and. . .” She grinned and showed him the wedding band on her finger. Ryan in turn chuckled and took another swig of water. 

“And you Shane?” 

“I was born in Illinois, where I grew up and attended medical school.” He recalled. “A job opened up for a direly needed doctor in little old Vulture Mine. So I took it, and I’m glad I did, otherwise I never woulda met Sara.” He placed a chaste kiss on her temple. “What about you, Ryan?”

“Before Brent?” Ryan asked. “Well, I was born in California, my parents having come during the Gold Rush. My mother passed when I was very young of Scarlet Fever, and my father later from Tuberculosis. My brothers and I joined the war, and I was the only one to make it out alive. So with no family, I found Brent, and the rest is history.” 

There was a prolonged silence, the only noise the buzzing of bugs and the swishing the horses’ tails. 

“Gee Ryan. . .” Shane said, breaking the silence. “We sure are sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ryan said with a wave of his hand. “Past can’t be fixed.” Before anything else could be said, he stood up and dusted himself off. “Now let’s get going, we got outlaws to kill.” He mounted Chief, and Shane couldn’t help but watch as he quickly swiped at his eyes. 

~~~

The Gila twisted and turned from where they could see it on the shore, wide and green and its current fast. Crossing would be dangerous, but they eventually found a spot that looked shallow enough for them to pass. 

They all dismounted, and Shane and Ryan first led Chief along, leaving Sara on the shore with Smokey. Once Ryan was on the other side with Chief, Shane stood at the halfway mark. 

“C’mon Sara.” He said, hand outstretched. She nodded, and began making her way across. The cool water swirled around her, and she shivered as it seeped through her skirts and enveloped her lower half. Still, she pushed on, fingers shakily clasped on Smokey’s rein. But only a few feet from Shane, Smokey neighed and reared. Sara took a step back, and in doing so, slipped from the shallow end and plummeted beneath the surface, cold water encircling her terrified form. 

“SARA!” Shane cried out, and he too dove beneath the surface. Ryan let go of Chief’s rein and ran alongside the river, trying desperately to grab at Smokey, who also had been sucked downstream. 

Sara’s hazel eyes opened wide, seeing nothing but murky green water around her. She tried helplessly to kick, but with her layers of skirts tangled in her legs, she was practically immobile. She claws upwards trying desperately to reach the surface for a fresh gulp of air, but to no avail. She was stuck. Knowing her air was running out, she frantically began pushing herself through the water and to fallen tree branches at the other side, hoping against everything that she’d be able to use it like a ladder and haul herself up. But as she reached it, her skirts became tangled with the tree’s outstretched branches, and she could only watch as everything began to fade. Still, she was frantic, hoping desperately nothing would hurt—

Shane, upon seeing his wife’s tangled form, took out his knife and began furiously hacking and tearing at her skirt until he was able to gather her up in his arms and swim up to the surface, where Ryan stood. He helped haul her still body up out of the water. Shane came up onto the shore after her, and began chest compressions. 

“C’mon Sara.” He said, getting no response from her. Ryan watched tears began sliding down his cheeks. “I ain’t losing you.” 

Suddenly her hazel eyes shot open, and she heaved up a mouthful of water. Shane embraced her shivering form, wrapping his jacket around her even though he was just as cold. 

“You’re alright darlin’.” He said, running a hand soothingly through her hair. “You’re alright.” 

She looked up at Ryan and managed a small smile, before leaning in closer to Shane. 

“You sure I’m alight?” She whispered. 

“Yes, honey.” He smiled through his tears. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“I ain’t. . .bleeding or anything?” 

“Bleeding?” Shane asked, before lowering his voice. “Why’d you be bleedin’ darlin’?” 

“Th-the branches dug into me.” She said. “I thought my thighs were all scraped up.” 

Shane looked at her quizzically, before turning around to Ryan, and gave him a knowing look. Ryan turned and looked the other way, awkwardly digging his hands into his pockets as Shane lifted up his wife’s skirt. 

“No, hon,” he said as he set them back down, giving her knee a reassuring pat. “You’re fine. Everything’s fine.” He gave her a reassuring squeeze, and she smiled, looking down at the ground. 

“Alright then.” She replied. “That’s good.” 

Shane gingerly helped her to her feet, before looking around with wide eyes. 

“Where’s Chief?” 

Ryan audibly gasped, before turning around and gazing into the trees, both left and right. 

“I let go of his reins to help you get Sara outta the water.” He said, taking off his hat and clenching it in his hands. “I was only trying to help—”

“It’s fine Ryan.” Sara said as she huddled into Shane’s chest. “We’re fine, we’ve still got—” 

She quieted then, her hand flying to her mouth. Both the men looked on down the river to a shallow patch, where an unmoving gray body greeted them. Smokey had feigned far worse in Gila’s wrath. 

“Son of a bitch.” Shane cursed, wrenching off his cowboy hat. “The hell’er we s’posed to do now?” 

All three members were at a loss for words as they sadly gazed upon Smokey’s body, the sky growing darker as dusk fell upon them. Finally, Sara spoke up. 

“Why don’t we hike up a bit farther into the trees?” She asked. “There’s a few settlers around Buckeye.” 

“You sure Sara?” Shane asked. “You did take an awful tumble into that river.”

“I’m sure.” She replied, looking up at her husband with hard eyes. “I’m fine, what matters now is that we keep moving.” 

Shane and Ryan both shared a glance, agreeing with Sara’s statement. With the setting sun upon them, they trudged up toward the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Sara's so worried about?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Helen's here! If 

Night was upon them. Cold night, with its darkened sky and unforgiving winds. Sara and Shane shivered beneath their clothes, still damp from that dangerous tumble into the Gila. With both horses gone, they were left to trudge through the line of tress and onto an expanse of dry desert towards the teeny settlement of Buckeye. 

It was even smaller than Vulture Mine, only founded this year. A few settlers dotted it, as far as the three of them knew. Still, they hoped and prayed that whoever was there would be the kind of folks who welcomed travelers in with open arms and not the barrel of a gun. 

“Look.” Sara said, pointing one shaky pale finger in the direction of a small shack of a house. It looked as though to be falling apart, shutters swinging loosely off their nails, the house itself faded and weak by the sun, and a pen practically made of sticks where two horses soundly slept. 

“Let’s hope they’re friendly.” Ryan muttered, before they began to approach the house. 

Reaching the pen first, they crept along the thin wooden beams, eyeing the two horses, who looked young and strong enough, though they doubted whoever owned them would let them borrow them. Just look at what happened to Chief and Smokey. 

Halfway there, Ryan’s foot caught on a feed bucket, and he tripped. He reached out to grab a post of the pen, but instead his hand closed around the tail of one of the horses. It awoke and reared, its shrill neighs echoing through the dark expanse of night. 

BAM! 

The door of the home kicked open and a slim figure stepped out, holding something long in their hands. They took aim with it, and too late they all realized what it was. 

BANG! 

A bullet narrowly missed Shane’s foot, bringing up a clump of dust. Shane jumped away, and tugged Sara to the ground. But instead, she shook off her husband and frantically waved her arms at the shooter. 

“WAIT! WAIT!” She cried, her shrill voice mingling with the horse’s frightened whinnies. “WE DON’T MEAN ANY HARM!” 

The figure lowered their gun slightly once they could see Sara, before approaching them, slowly and cautiously. Ryan stood up beside them and watched as the figure came into view, revealing a young woman. She eyed them all, and kept the rifle pointed at them. 

“What do y’all want?” Her voice was gruff, and Sara could tell she was purposely lowering it to sound more threatening. 

“Please.” Sara said. “We lost our horses, my husband and I nearly drowned in the Gila, we only want a bit of shelter.” 

The woman glanced at Shane, her eyes running up and down his tall form. He managed a shaky smile, before she turned to Ryan. 

“Hand over your weapons.” Ryan looked at her quizzically, but after a nudge in the ribs from Sara, he handed her his hand gun. She stowed it away in her pocket before lowering her own rifle. “Come inside.” She said. “And try not to scare the horses, will you?” She shot a look at Ryan, before motioning them into her home. 

~~~

It was small to say the least, one room with a stove, table and a few chairs on one side, along with a rickety bed on the other. The floor was dirt, and the walls were made of logs, but it was a shelter, after all, and gave more warmth than the outside. 

“I was just about to have dinner.” The woman said, motioning to the pot on the stove. Inside bubbled beans, and on the table there was a tray of biscuits. “Help yourself. You folks seem to have come a long way.” 

“Have we ever.” Shane said with a smile, before he and his wife sat down at the table and each helped themselves to a biscuit. The woman opened the front door, pulling her coat tight around her. 

“I’m gonna go check on the horses.” She let the door swing shut behind her with a creaky thud, and not even a few seconds after Ryan burst out the house after her. 

“Ma’am.” He said as he trudged toward her. She lifted her head to look at him quizzically, and he froze. Having not completely seen her face before, he was frozen at the sight if her beneath the moonlight. Round, tan face with long lashed almond shaped eyes. Her lips, though usually smooth, were set in a tight line at her annoyance of him. Her hair, long and brown, was waving ever so slightly in the wind. She was absolutely beautiful, whoever she was. She tucked one soft strand behind her ear and huffed. 

“Yessir?” 

“I—uh. . .wanna thank you ma’am.” He stuttered. “For lettin’ us stay here. Even after what I did to them horses. They’re mighty fine horses ma’am.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Call me Helen.” 

“Alright then Helen.” Ryan said. He approached her at the wooden fence and leaned against it as she did, elbows set pertly on the wooden board. He smiled at her in the dark, and hoped she hadn’t seen how red he was. “Tell me about them horses.” 

She sighed and pointed to a gray dappled one, with black around its eyes and brown around its muzzle. “That one there’s Micki.” She then pointed to the other, the one Ryan had grabbed accidentally. It was primarily white, with a brown mane and tail and dark and light brown around its eyes and muzzle. “And that one’s Dori.” 

“Micki and Dori.” Ryan said with a rye smile. “I like that.” He looked down at her and smiled, and for the first time since they’d met, she smiled back. 

“I like ‘em too.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, before she seemed to snap out of it. 

“We should—we should head back on to the house. See how the others are doin’.” 

“They’re fine.” Ryan replied as they headed back to the house. He looked down at her with kind eyes. “Long as they got each other.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay Halen's here! If you hadn't noticed already, I based her horses off of Micki and Dori, Ryan and Helen's dogs!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a wild west au based both on the Vulture Mine episode of BFU and the wonderful song "Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder. This is my first multiple chapters fic on this site so I hope you enjoy! More chapters to come!


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